


Getting to the Point

by mahons_ondine



Series: Jack and Bitty's Kinksploration! [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: BDSM, Edgeplay, Knife Play, M/M, RACK - Freeform, SSC, Safety first, Smut, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty and Jack are always exploring new things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I read this sweet little ficlet earlier today ([Two Different Types of Sharpening](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7457638)) and it was lovely! But not what I was expecting. I imagined knife play and did not get any! So I am writing it. And this, my friends, is apparently that fic. Here is part one.

They've talked about it. Actually they've talked about it quite a lot.  Bitty is pretty great about discussing things before they try them out. And yeah sometimes with little things that fall well within their boundaries he doesn't, but for knife play? Yeah. They talked. They kind of had to. 

 

See Bitty likes to watch porn together while Jack is riding him. Connect the computer to the big screen TV and let the surround sound moaning mix with his quiet gasps, the slap of his ass against Bitty's thighs as he rides him and the murmur of Bitty against his shoulder. And Bitty always asks him what he thinks.  Does he like the look of those ropes?  Would he like it if Bitty filled him up with one of his biggest plugs and then made him go out for a walk? Or maybe he would like a blindfold and some ear plugs, and then just Bitty touching him? And Jack says yes, and yes, and maybe not in public and please.  And Bitty loves that the best.  Bitty loves when Jack says please, when Jack begs. 

 

And then one day they’re watching this scene where a young man is tied up, and his clothes are being sliced off of his body. 

 

And Bitty whispers against his skin—would you like that?  Would you like to feel cold steel against your skin, to know how easily I could hurt you, and to trust that I won’t?  At least not very much.   

And Bitty strokes down his neck, his collarbone, his nipple, with the edge of his fingernail.  And it feels, Jack thinks, a little bit like a knife might, and Jack can’t seem to force any words out.  His throat is tight with terror and excitement, and his brain is just whirring along, imagining the way Bitty would look, the way the knife would feel, the pain and the fear and the delicious danger.  And he’s coming so hard, so fast, that he can hardly breathe.  He’s gasping, and sobbing out Bitty’s name, coming apart in his lap, only held up by Bitty’s strong arms around him. 

And then he’s apologizing.  So sorry.  Didn’t mean to come.  I didn’t know—

But Bitty knows.  And he strokes his cheek, and moves him around a little like a ragdoll, until he’s draped over Bitty’s lap, his head on top of Bitty’s.  And Bitty holds him.  And Bitty forgives him.  And Bitty loves him. 

Bitty also doesn’t forget.  Because the next day he sits Jack down, and he asks him point blank how he felt—does he really like the idea of knife play, or would he like to actually try it.  And Jack just stares at him, and he doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.  But he trusts Bitty, and so he tells him that.  He doesn’t know, he can’t be sure, but he thinks maybe.  And maybe is a good enough reason to try.  If Bitty wants, that is. And Bitty wants.  Jack can tell.  Bitty is practically vibrating with excitement. But his face is soft.  He’s still Jack’s Bitty.  And when Bitty thanks him—for being so open, but also so honest; for trusting him, but not being afraid to show his fears—Jack feels like Bitty opened up his chest and poured sunlight directly inside him.  He wants to get on his knees right then and there and beg and plead and let Bitty do anything, everything he wants with Jack.  But Bitty just laughs and kisses his face all over and tells him that no, Bitty needs to research, and Bitty wants it to be on his own time, and no, Jack is too sore from practice.  And Jack is disappointed, more so than he thought he would be.  But also pleased because Bitty gathers him up and kisses him, and draws him a bath for his muscles and then slides him into bed all loose limbed and satisfied, after a sloppy bath oil driven hand job.  And Jack feels so loved, and wanted, and safe, and the last thing he thinks as he drifts off, head pillowed on Bitty’s chest, is that he was right.  Bitty can always be trusted.  Bitty will always take care of him.   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blades are finally drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least one more chapter to go! You'll see why next time!

It's weeks before anything happens. Bitty wants to get things right. Some people think Bitty is careless, they've seen his grades, peeked in his college dorm room, and he is sometimes, but never with baking, and never ever with Jack. So Bitty researches, and Jack waits. Of course he keeps bringing it up, though. Every couple days Bitty has a another question for him--does he want him to break the skin, how does he feel about blood, about scars, about pain. And then he talks him through, and he refuses to touch him until afterwards. Something about making sure Jack has a clear head, and when that selfsame head is happily ensconced in Bitty's lap, and Jack is floating in a haze of sensation as Bitty strokes and scrapes at his ears, his scalp, his lips, his throat, well Jack thinks there might be a little something to Bitty's reasoning. 

It doesn't help the ache low in his belly though. It doesn't help the nervous anticipation. That no matter how many times Bitty makes him come, no matter how many times Bitty drops him down into sub space and treats him like a precious thing, there's always this awareness in his gut. And it's sharp and silver colored and it tastes of copper and fear and desire. 

And then Bitty brings home a knife, and Jack thinks, oh god oh god oh god it's time. And he wonders if he should say no, no, no, but now he thinks, now he's actually sure. Now he wants this. So he doesn't say no, he just stares up at Bitty helplessly from where he's perched on the edge of the couch. But then it isn't today and Jack breathes a sigh of relief tinged regret. Instead Bitty tests the knife on his own skin and Jack has to bandage up the cut on his arm. It isn't deep, but it bleeds and bleeds, and Jack thinks he might vomit. And Bitty can tell, but he just cups Jack's cheek and tells him no, no, no he isn't going to do anything nearly so deep, that this is why Bitty never ever uses anything on Jack that he hasn't worked through himself. Jack can't help but kiss him then, and Bitty smiles and let's Jack worship him just a little bit, and Jack is glad. 

And still, and still, he waits. And three days later Bitty is waiting for him. 

"Clothes off." 

Jack starts, dropping his hockey bag, and turning towards the kitchen where Bitty is leaning ever so casually against the counter in a pair of threadbare jeans, a belt, and the knife. Jack shudders. Bitty looks dangerous. And it sends a little thrill down his spine. 

So he scrambles out of his clothes, leaving on his boxer briefs at Bitty's request, and sinking to his knees next to the kitchen island where Bitty has left a cushion for him. And he stares up at Bitty, and the mask falls for a moment and Bitty smiles. 

“Color, sweetheart?” 

“Green,” Jack says. “Green, please.” 

Bitty nods, and sets to work. He lays a whetstone down on the counter in front of Jack, and he starts, slow and sensuous. It should be menacing, Jack thinks, but it isn't. It's almost trance like as Bitty drags metal against stone, calmly explaining that he wants to make sure the knife is extra sharp so that if it cuts, it doesn't tear. So that it's neat. And the hush of Bitty's quiet, assured words, and the shck-shck of the knife carries him down down down. 

Bitty checks in with him again when he’s done. He lays the knife down and strokes Jack’s cheek with his fingertips and asks for a color--green, yes yes green. And his skin feels like it's on fire where Bitty is touching him and it ignites the ache that has been simmering since he knelt. And everything after that is a blur, a desperate blur. Bitty is boiling water, Bitty is sterilizing the knife. Bitty it taking it out and drying it and slipping it into the freezer so that it will cool fast. But it feels like it will never be fast enough to satisfy until Bitty is there, and he's touching him, and he’s taking his belt and wrapping it gently around his head, over his eyes and whispering to him, stop thinking so hard, Jack, stop worrying, don't fight me, come with me, focus on me. And he calms down. And he realizes he isn't breathing so hard. And he isn't isn't shivering. And the knife is just a tool, an extension of Bitty. And that's it. He slumps against Bitty’s thighs and revels in his warmth, and waits, waits for the sharp pain. Whenever Bitty is ready to give it to him. 

Bitty kisses the crown if his head and then there's the freezer door and Bitty’s careful steps and then--ah! 

It's cold. That's what he feels first. Just a brush of cold. And he jumps. 

“You have to be still, Jack. Can you be still for me?” Bitty’s hand is a vice grip on his shoulder. 

Jack can feel the bones grinding, hear the anger in Bitty’s voice. 

“Yes, please, I'll do better, I promise.” 

“See that you do. I choose the way you hurt, not you, not fate, not an accident. Do you understand?” 

Jack nods, heart and chest and belly aching too much to speak. And then there's quiet. 

“Color,” Bitty breathes against his ear. 

“Green,” he whispers. 

And then the knife is back. The knife is back and the cold, light pressure against his skin leaves tingles in its wake. 

It doesn't really hurt, Jsck thinks hazily, trying to map out the pattern Bitty is tracing into his skin. 

It's starts on his shoulders, then his back, his arms, his chest. And the aching in his belly grows. He can feel his cock, hot and heavy pressing against his underwear, pressing, pressing desperate for relief. And he wants so much to rock his hips, to shift, anything so that he can have a little relief, but he doesn't. He wants to be good for Bitty. To let Bitty trace and scrape and scratch his skin and to be a perfect silent canvas for the art that exudes from the tip of every one of Bitty’s fingers. And he is. 

And then Bitty pulls the knife away and Jack cries out. Because Bitty is gone in that second Bitty is gone and he feels so lost. But then Bitty’s foot presses down against his cock and the cry this time is anguish yes, but so good, like the bone deep ache of an incredible workout. And then Bitty threads his fingers through his hair and yanks his head back, anchoring him between two points of pressure. And slowly, so slowly, Bitty draws the knife down his cheek. 

“Come for me.” 

And helplessly he does. 

In the aftermath Bitty is more gentle than Jack has ever seen him, and he can't help the tears that seem to well up once Bitty has him wrapped in a blanket and is solicitously feeding him sips of water and bites of fresh baked cookies. 

Bitty kisses away the tears, worry falling like a shroud over his face. 

“Honey, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to! Are you alright? I thought--you said green!? Was it not--” 

“Shh no, I'm just...You love me so much don't you?” Jack murmurs. 

“Of course. I do. You know that I don't you? I hope you know.” 

“I know. I just never felt it quite like this. Right in my core… And I love you too, Bits. I wish I could tell you how much. But you know I'm not… I don't have the words.” 

And Bitty is pulling him close, and wrapping his arms around him and kissing him and kissing him. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang with me on [tumblr](www.mahons-ondine.tumblr.com) and let me know there or in the comments what I should write next for this series!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a much, much, shorter chapter then planned, but the tone didn't feel right when I put this right smack up against porn. So here is some fluff and some talking, and check back in later today or tomorrow for chapter 4--the conclusion of this story and a big mess of smut!

The next morning Bitty walks in on Jack staring at himself in the bathroom mirror.

“Did you just realize you're gorgeous?” Bitty chirps lazily.   
  
Jack frowns, leaning into his reflection.

“You didn't break the skin at all!”

Bitty blushes, catches up his hand and leads Jack into the kitchen, shrugging at the sink helplessly. “I forgot to tell you last night.”

Jack rescues a butter knife from the sink, blinking at it and then, face growing stormy, he tosses it back down with a clatter.

“You lied to me,” he hisses.

“I made a decision.”

“No you told me one thing and then did another. I thought you were all about consent.”

“Jack! This is not about consent, this is about you feeling weak for some reason because I only used a mildly sharp object against your skin instead of a deadly one.”

“I was never in any danger!”

Bitty pauses, “Did you really think you might be in danger with me?”

“No,” Jack mumbles sulkely.

“It wasn't about the knife, Jack. The knife was just a tool. It was about you and me and trust. And I used it because I was afraid you might jump at first,” he says pointedly.

Jack blushes.

“I didn't say that I wasn't going to use the sharp one. I just wanted to start out with one that wouldn't slice you into ribbons.”

“Oh. That's fair. But we can try the sharp one today!”

“Not today, Jack.”

“But Bitty I'm ready. I am. I can do this. And I promise I won't jump. I swear.”

“Jack--”

“I can make you proud. I'm ready.”

“Jack! No. Not today.”

“But Bitty!”

“Red. My color is red, Jack.”

“Bitty. You're the Dom. What? I don't want to use it on you.”

Bitty chuckles. “I should hope not. No I'm quite happy with our roles, but listen, topping takes a great deal out of me. It isn't just subs that need to stop. And it isn't just subs that you need consent from.”

Jack nods, wrapping Bitty up in his big arms, and pulling him to his chest.

“Do you need to cuddle like we do when I have to safeword?”

Bitty nods against Jack’s chest.

“Alright,” Jack whispers, and he scoops Bitty up and carries him back to bed. Nowhere more important to be.

**Author's Note:**

> So that is the set up. And there will be more porn! And more talking. Also lots of safety because it's important. I'm thinking of doing a whole series of Zimbits trying out new kinks. If that's something people would be interested in let me know here or on [tumblr](www.mahons-ondine.tumblr.com)! Or just come hang out and chat. Let me know what you'd like to see.


End file.
